


Of Tire Shops and Accounting Jobs

by The_Fall_Of_Man



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU-Human, Breathplay, M/M, PornWithPlot, Smut, Top!Cas, bottom!Dean, mechanic!Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27834772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Fall_Of_Man/pseuds/The_Fall_Of_Man
Summary: Former mechanic Dean Winchester is working a middle management job for an auto company when a night out brings an insanely attractive stranger into his life. Little does he know just how involved they're about to become.Based on a prompt in the DESTIEL FOREVER Facebook group.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Lera and Stephanie for waking up my muse with the fantastic prompts. This one is for y'all!  
> This started off as a one shot that got too big for its britches, so it's a multi-chapter fic now. But the meat and potatoes of the prompt is right here in the first 3 chapters. If y'all like it, I'll keep writing more in this verse, but if not I'll just leave it right where it is.  
> This is the first thing I've written in a while, and the first thing I have ever posted...so please be gentle. It's an unbeta'd quick edit, so I apologize in advance for mistakes. Enjoy!

It feels like he's been sitting at this desk for days, but the clock on the wall tells him it's only been two hours. Rubbing his eyes doesn't really make the faint throb of his headache lessen, but he can pretend it does. There are about a million things he would rather do on a Friday night than stay late to make sure the shop inventory is in order, but he supposes this is what he signed up for when he accepted the management job here at McLeod Tire and Auto. Sometimes (most of the time) he really misses just being Joe Mechanic, working side by side with Bobby to renovate classic cars, but the extra money was too good to pass up. It's definitely nice to finally be able to afford his own place, now that Sam and Jess are expecting. He can't wait for his niece or nephew to finally make an appearance, but he definitely doesn't want to be the weird uncle who sleeps on the couch. Just as he's signing off of his desktop, everything finally in order for the week, his phone pings with a text notification. Speak of the devil, he thinks with a grin as he sees his brother's name pop up. 

*Meet me at the Roadhouse tonight??*

He doesn't get to see Sam nearly as much as his brotherly instinct tells him he should, and he does owe it to Ellen to pay a visit. It's been a few weeks, and she's probably worried sick about both of them. 

After shooting off a quick affirmative to Sam (*Sure. Give me half an hour to stop home and change*) he shuts the computer down, swipes his jacket off of the ergonomic desk chair, and heads out the front door after ensuring it's locked.

The sleek, black body of his '67 Chevy Impala is always a welcome sight after a long day. Sliding into the driver's seat, he rummages around in the floorboard for his box of cassette tapes. He'd seriously considered breaking Sam's nose when he'd suggested putting in a CD player, but a stern "You don't fuck with the classics, Sammy!" had been enough to shut him up. For now. When the engine rumbles to life, Foreigner blares from the stereo and he smiles as he rolls the car out onto the road and points her towards home.

\---------

As much as he loves a good dive bar, Dean knows the Roadhouse will never be just a bar to either Sam or himself. Ellen's place has been a haven for both of them since well before they were of legal drinking age, and Ellen herself a second mother after Mary Winchester's unexpected passing. Sam and Jess had their wedding reception here, and a year later so did Ellen and Bobby. The familiar crunch of gravel under his baby's tires never fails to make Dean feel like he's coming home, no matter how many other cars are in the lot. Tonight there are several, but Sam's black Charger isn't hard to spot. He slides the Impala into the open space beside it and throws her into park before texting his brother to let him know he's there.

As soon as he walks inside Sam is waving him down, having already staked a claim on a perfect table- a two-top, almost exactly halfway between the U-shaped bar at the center and the pool table opposite the entrance. "Heya Sammy!" a wide grin splits his face as his not-so-little brother wraps him in a tight bear hug, "It's good to see ya, man." Sam let's him go after a moment and passes him a beer from the bucket on the table. Dean raises a brow at that but Sam just chuckles.

"It's good to see you too, Dean. Ellen sent those over as soon as I told her you were coming too. And she expects a hello before you leave tonight." He rolls his eyes and hangs his leather jacket over the back of a chair before taking his seat. 

Time seems to fly as he sits and catches up with Sam. Jess is doing great, they find out the sex of the baby in two weeks. Sam's in the running for a promotion at the firm, and they've been thinking of buying a house after the baby comes "so Bones will have a yard to run around in". Dean just smiles at that, knowing the white picket fence, apple pie life has always been Sammy's real goal in life. He can't help but feel a swell of pride at how well his brother has managed to do for himself in spite of their rough upbringing. John Winchester certainly isn't winning any awards for how he raised his boys after his wife died, but Dean had always tried his best to make sure his brother was well taken care of. To see him living up to his potential is really as much as Dean can ask for, and well worth the GED and years of couch surfing he got in return. 

Before he knows it, nearly three hours have passed. Sam had switched over to plain Coke, to be sober enough to drive home to his wife, but Dean is definitely feeling the more-than-a-few beers, his whole body pleasantly fuzzy. Sam's phone rings just as he's about to suggest a game of pool. "It's Jess" he says, an unspoken apology in his tone as he brings the phone to his ear. "Hey babe. Yeah, I'm just about ready to head that way." There's a pause as he listens. "Of course, anything for you. I love you too. I'll see you soon." He hangs up with a sigh. Dean shoots him a knowing smile.

"Time to get back to the missus?"

"Yeah. She wants donuts, so I gotta stop at the Gas 'N' Sip."

"Dude, it's like midnight." Sam just shrugs. "Yeah, yeah. Womb service, I get it." He walks with Sam towards the door and claps him on the back with a "drive safe, Sammy", and watches as he climbs into the Charger. He debates leaving as well, but he isn't quite ready to call it a night. He doesn't have to work tomorrow, so what's the harm in hanging around for a bit? He does still owe Ellen a hello, after all, and it's not like it would be the first time he's closed the place down. 

Making his way back to the bar, he decides it's time to switch to Whiskey. If he gets too drunk he knows he can always call a cab and leave his Baby in the lot. Ellen wouldn't have it towed and he can just pick it up tomorrow. Or, he could just crash in one of the vacant rooms at the Roadhouse if he really needs to. Seating himself on an empty barstool, he waves Jo down.

"You still here, Winchester? Damn. Thought you left with Sam." He knows it's just an act. Jo is like a little sister to him, and the mischievous glint in her eye says she's happy to see him no matter what she says.

"Come on now, Joanna Beth. You know I wouldn't leave without saying hi to you and your mom." She grabs a bottle of bourbon off the shelf and pours him a double without being asked.

"Or without at least a mild case of alcohol poisoning." He gives her his best innocent smile before throwing the drink back in one go.

"Who, me? Nah. Liver of steel, Jo, you know that." She rolls her eyes and refills his drink before sauntering off to help the other patrons. He figures he'll nurse this one, so he pulls out his phone tondick around online for a bit, pointedly ignoring the two notifications from his work email. He'll worry about those come Monday, for now he's off the clock and he's damn well gonna enjoy it. He only sits for a few minutes before someone takes the stool a few seats to his right. He only plans on glancing over, checking his surroundings on instinct, but what he sees causes his gaze to linger. 

A tousle of dark hair is sticking out of the collar of a tan..trenchcoat, of all things. Black dress slacks hug the curve of obviously well-shaped legs. But what really catches his attention are the man's eyes, a deep glacial blue that seems to pierce through to his very soul. His mouth goes a bit dry as he realizes the stranger is staring right back, a slight questioning frown creasing his brow. Dean clears his throat, and his thoughts, enough to manage a calm-enough "hey there", his best 'yeah I was checking you out' smirk plastered on his face. When the man fails to respond, he tries again. "Buy you a drink?" Trenchcoat's expression softens slightly at the offer, a slight nod the only confirmation Dean needs before waving Jo down again. He offers his hand while she finishes making a drink for another customer. "Name's Dean," he says, offering a slightly clammy hand. To his surprise, the man takes it in a firm handshake. 

"Hello, Dean" and oh, God, his voice is like nothing Dean has ever heard. Low and just a little gravely, and it hits him low in his gut. Jo comes over just as his hand falls back to his side.

"Hey, Jo. Another one for me, and whatever my friend here would like, just put it on my tab." She gives him a knowing look before turning to the other man. She's seen Dean play this game a hundred times over, and isn't phased in the slightest.

"What'll ya have, hun?" she asks, her best 'innocent bartender' smile spread across her features. Without hesitation, he orders a bourbon, neat. Jo turns to fill their order and those cerulean orbs are intent on Dean again.

"So, uh, I've never seen you at the Roadhouse before," Dean observes, "which is saying something. You new in town or just passing through?" Trenchcoat seems to honestly consider that question for a moment.

"That has yet to be determined" he says finally, "I'm waiting for news on a job. I plan to stay if I'm offered the position, but if they decline my services then I suppose I am just...passing through."

Jo hands them their drinks without interrupting the conversation, then moves just out of earshot. At least Dean Hope's she can't hear the next thing out of his mouth.

"Well, how about we finish our drinks and then you let me welcome you to the neighborhood, Mr…?" 

"Novak. Castiel Novak." Dean grins, barely biting back a James Bond joke that would certainly put a damper on his impulsive decision to try and get laid.

"Well, Castiel...my offer stands" he throws his drink back and pulls out his wallet to settle the tab, "Wanna get out of here?" The corner of Castiel's mouth quirks up in a half-assed grin, and he knows he's sealed the deal. He knows he's going to catch hell from Ellen, but if Castiel looks as good Naked as he does wearing a trenchcoat in a bar, then he'll take the ass-chewing a hundred times over.

"That sounds like an excellent idea, Dean."

\----------


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here there be porn. You've been warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok here comes the smut, I promise! It felt a little rushed so I may come back and edit later, but I'm just trying to get it all out while the idea is fresh! Again, unbeta'd. Again, be gentle. All the love to you!

He wakes up slowly, one sense at a time. The first thing he noticesl is the unfamiliar-but-clean scent of the pillow under his head, followed immediately by the warm length of a body stretched out against his side. The memory of the night before comes back in a whirl of hotnakedsweaty, and he smiles sleepily before turning to wrap his arms around Castiel.

"Mornin' Cas" he grumbles against a naked chest as strong arms wrap around him.

"Good morning, Dean". He'd thought Castiel's voice was hot the night before, but hearing it first thing in the morning gruff with sleep is like having liquid sex poured straight in through his ears. His body definitely agrees, if throb in his groin is anything to go by. The other man must be on a similar train of thought, as his hand slides slowly down Dean's side to cup his ass. An open mouthed kiss to the edge of his jaw is all it takes to get him completely on board for round two...or is it three? Either way…

He pulls Castiel on top of him in one smooth motion, surprising a laugh out of the man. But behind the amusement in his gaze, there's a heat that sends goosebumps down Dean's spine. He feels strong hands trailing down his chest, but foreplay is the furthest thing from his mind as he gropes for the lube and strip of condoms he remembers putting on the nightstand before they fell asleep. They're both ready when he rolls the condom on and lines them up. There is a slight burn and stretch, but he revels in it, his breath hissing out between his teeth until Castiel is buried to the hilt, pressing their foreheads together when Dean wraps his arms around his neck.

They start out slow, just rocking together, finding a rhythm, until Castiel's cock brushes against him just right and he gasps. "Damnit, Cas, would you fucking move already?" And he does, God does he, fucking into Dean until his entire world is reduced to the slick in-out and the moans he can't seem to hold back, half-formed sentences that might be prayers. His prostate is being stroked perfectly on every stroke, and he just knows he's going to cum like this, his cock completely untouched between them. His orgasm is coiling low in his belly, and he manages a "fuck, Cas", his fingers scrabbling for purchase against the smooth muscles of the other's back. He's so close, sofuckingclose….and that's when Castiel's phone rings, and everything stops. 

"Fuck! Dean, I'm so sorry," he says, stretching over to snatch the offending device off of the table. He looks at the screen. "I have to take this, it will only take a moment. I'm so sorry…"

Dean fully expects him to get up, get dressed, and take the call in another room. He's not happy about it, but he steels himself for it. Castiel, however, shocks the absolute hell out of him. Not only does he stay in the room, he stays right there inside Dean as he puts the phone to his ear.

"Castiel Novak speaking," he says to whoever is the other end of this poorly timed call, his voice entirely too steady for the situation they were currently in. There is a fairly long pause, in which Castiel let's his free hand slide slowly down Dean's front. He feels his eyes go wide when the heat of a palm wraps itself around his dick. His erection flagged slightly when they were interrupted, but apparently his small brain doesn't really care that the hand stroking it is attached to a body very much on an "important" phone call. "No, no, I completely agree," Cas says to the caller, "It would be much more convenient to conduct the interview over the phone. Now?" his eyebrows raise in surprise, then he seems to contemplate the offer for a moment, his head cocked slightly to the side. His eyes lock with Dean's, his gaze a swirl of hungerdangerdominance, before he simply says "Sure."

Dean is pretty sure his soul has left his body. He has a drop dead sexy brunette balls-deep inside him, stroking his cock while he talks about his fucking resume. There's no way this is normal, but there's also no way he's telling Cas to stop, not while he keeps their eyes locked and starts to move again. It's amazing how level and normal Cas sounds as he answers what sound like some pretty in depth questions. He definitely never thought he'd be getting absolutely fucking railed while the guy said shit like "we can run the numbers at a later date" and "I believe my experience could be invaluable to a company that needs to widen profit margins", but fuck if it isn't hot as hell.

All at once, his leg is being shifted up, deepening the angle and a moan makes it's way past his lips in spite of himself. Castiel fixes him with a look that undeniably says quiet, a single brow raised and a finger pressed to his lips to emphasize the point. He nods in silent accord and bites down on his fist in an attempt to silence himself as the sensation begins to overwhelm. But then the thrusts increase in frequency and strength, he's on the verge of bloodying his lip and still can't manage to keep himself from letting sound escape. Suddenly, the hand that was just jacking his dick in perfect rhythm is squeezed tightly around his throat. He can still breathe, but barely, and he couldn't talk if he wanted to, and holyshit. 

He thinks, vaguely, that he hears the call end but he can't quite focus on anything but the white-hot pleasure coursing through him. But then, Castiel is leaning over him and murmuring praise in his ear as he fucks him hard and fast. Just as spots start dancing in his vision, the hold on his throat is released and a litany of fuckCasohmyfuckingGod is pouring out before he can stop it. His orgasm hits like a freight train. With a wordless shout, his entire body goes tense, pulling Castiel right over the edge with him. 

It takes a few minutes to catch his breath, but once he does he isn't quite sure what to say. He tries and fails a few times to say something, but ends up only being able to laugh (maybe a little hysterically), and wrap Cas' arm around his side pulling him back into a cuddle. He feels the smile on Cas' face as he presses a kiss against the back of his neck, fingers gently stroking through his hair. There is a long stretch of silence before he finally speaks.

"I apologize, Dean. That was a very important call, and I've been waiting days to hear something about that position." Dean snorts lightly, childishly amused by the word position in this context.

"Why're you apologizing to me, man?" He can't help the stupefied grin on his face. "I just got the ride of my fucking life. I mean, sure it was...unexpected. But definitely not something you need to be sorry about."

"I'm very pleased to hear you say that, Dean. I also enjoyed myself...thoroughly." Another long pause and then…"I suppose you were correct in your decision to welcome me to the neighborhood." His brain is a bit foggy, sleep trying drag him under after so much exertion.

"Oh yeah? Why'd'ya say that, Cas?" There's a puff of air on his neck as Castiel huffs out a soft laugh.

"Because, I got the job."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the plot we go. Wheeee!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter to wrap up the prompt. This is it for now, but please let me know if you want more!

Monday morning dawns bright and early. It takes two cups of coffee before Dean is even remotely ready to face the chaos he knows is waiting for him at work. He's just finishing up shaving when he hears the ping of a text message. He doesn't recognize the number, but as soon as he opens it he feels his face flush and a smile sneaks up on him.

*Hello, Dean. I am sorry I didn't contact you sooner. I had a lot to do to prepare for this new position. The weekend got away from me.*

He finishes getting ready before texting Castiel back, not wanting to seem too eager. Before he walks put the door, he types out a response.

*Np, man. I get it. Heading to work now, but text whenever u want.*

He sends it, then after a moment of consideration he starts a new message.

*Maybe we can hang out again sometime? ;)*

He doesn't wait for a reply, just locks up the apartment and heads out to the car. 

When he gets to the shop, there seems to be a suspicious amount of activity, and everyone seems to be a little on edge. Before heading I side he goes to the bay and flags down Benny to ask what the hell is going on.

"The big boss is coming in today," Benny informs him, "showin' some new VP around or somethin'. Didn't you get the email, brother?"

Fuck, he thinks, kicking himself for forgetting to check his email before coming in, too excited about texting Cas back. Walking inside, he pulls his phone out and clicks through until he finds the email he's looking for. 

*SUBJECT: NEW VP OF SALES

To whom it may concern:  
We are sending this notice as a courtesy to all of the employees in our local stores to inform you that we have brought new talent into the McLeod Tire and Auto family. We expect all of our employees, from cashiers all the way to the CEO Mr. McLeod himself, to set the best possible example-*

He decides to skim the rest of the corporate fluff and get to the real message of the email. He hears the shop door open with the electronic dings of the bell, but doesn't look up, too intent on getting to the bottom of everyone's tension. 

*...will be visiting all of our local stores, along with Mr. McLeod, in order to get a real look at how this company operates from the ground up. Please ensure you store and employees are up to company standards, and please make our newest VP of Sales feel welcome. Here is his company contact information, but remember to follow the chain of command.*

Oh great, he thinks, just what we need on a Monday, fucking Fergus McLeod here in our store.

He hears a not-so-subtle clearing of a throat just as he reads the first line of contact info. *Castiel Novak, VP of Sales*

Oh no. No no no. Slowly, he looks up, straight into a pair of way-too-familiar blue eyes.


End file.
